awe

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I see him stabled by the ruined yard, he came and so he`ll leave,

I watched him enduring isolation with grace, why his departure would make me grieve?

i dealt a deal of tranquility with his quill, in return to the awe of my ink,

I ought to be ashamed of watching my mum bleed,

I'm mourning at my love, oh, im mourning at him

I knew, i've dealt a lot of deals, some with air, and some with guilt,

but how much aestheticising my dejection would be, to bribe chaos for peace?